


Sir...

by 221bPhan



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock - Fandom, Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Humiliation kink, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Public Sex, School!lock, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, Student!Lock, Submissive!Lock, Teacher!John, Teacher!lock, stripper!lock, tw bullying
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-08-09 11:54:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7800916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/221bPhan/pseuds/221bPhan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sherlock dances on a pole where his teacher can see, Mr. Watson isn't so pleased with his 16-year-old student. He decides he needs to teach him a lesson...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

John watched with widened eyes as his student danced before him in the loud club; multi-colored lights dancing along grinding bodies in the audience. One, single bright light was on Sherlock, who was currently dancing on a pole in nothing more than a tight shirt and boxers. He moved with grace, mostly because of ballet, but it was in his nature as well. He didn't act like a whore when he performed. He made it seem like he was doing a private dance. He'd captivate you, winking at different people, and everyone in the club was watching with fascination. The bar was empty; all of the men had wanted to see this beautiful boy do what he did best. Well, do what he did best here, at least. John knew that he was much smarter, but damn, he could move.

Then, his mind just kind of stopped.

His student, little smart Sherlock Holmes who seemed absolutely innocent... Was stripping. In front of him. He wasn't supposed to even _be_ here, nonetheless working here. This was strictly a twenty-one and up club, and that's why John always went. Because there was no chance of seeing a student. Well, so he thought... Why was Sherlock allowed here?

That's when they made eye contact.

Sherlock nearly fell off of the pole. Jesus Christ, what was Mr. Watson doing here? Nononono. This wasn't supposed to happen. This was supposed to be a place where he could make money and impress strangers. _Not_ his teachers. Well... At least it was Mr. Watson. He seemed pretty alright. If it had been Ms. Adler, he'd probably been taken to the police by now. 

He finished his performance before disappearing backstage, getting dressed into some jeans and a hoodie, and he went through the back. He hailed a cab, going back home, and there he stay for quite a few minutes, silent, on his bed. Mr. Watson had seen him. But... He hadn't reported him to the police. Or asked anyone why he'd been there. Sherlock was grateful for not being told out, but he knew there was going to be a conversation after class tomorrow. He turned on Spotify before just relaxing back on his bed, watching the stars projected on his ceiling, occasionally mouthing a constellation he recognized. He smiled. It was going to be okay. He fell asleep with that thought, the stars slowly fading in a response. Soon enough, he was snoring softly, his room empty of any light, save for moonshine spilling from behind the curtains.

***

John was up early the next morning, going through the night before as he brushed his teeth. He blushed as he saw his erection, and he felt extremely guilty after finishing his wank. He wasn't supposed to think about a student romantically, and he was absolutely sure sexually wasn't accepted either. He cleaned himself up before getting dressed in dress trousers and a jumper before getting his bag of graded papers, swinging it along as he walked the short distance to the school, whistling to distract himself. Once he was there, he set everything up for class. He wouldn't have to deal with Sherlock until later, as he had him at the end of the day. He smiled as students filed in, returning some greetings before getting down to business.

Meanwhile, Sherlock was in History. He hated it. Sure, it _could_ come in handy somewhere, but really, it was a waste of time. He looked down at what he had been absentmindedly doodling, smiling at the dog's face he met when he looked down. It was... Pretty good. He started shading, completely blocking out the lesson. His phone was recording. He could listen to it after school. He took out some colored pencils, hiding what he was doing with a textbook. Then, he looked it over. A chocolate brown lab. It had fine, gray hairs. He thought it should be around thirteen and a half. He soon finished it, and he put his things away as it turned to the next class... Then the next... Then the next... Then lunch. Shit. Lunch. He quickly went outside, running over to the cafe and sitting down, ordering something there. He couldn't eat in school, or else he would get beat up again. He'd already gone to the hospital a few times for things that needed stitching, and a few fractures. He sipped at his iced coffee and observed the world around him, mentally preparing for his next (and last) class.


	2. Chapter Two: It's Time.

_He sipped at his iced coffee and observed the world around him, mentally preparing for his next (and last) class._

Mr. Watson sighed, sipping at his beer that he'd sneaked in. He'd need it for this. He'd wrapped it in a Coca-Cola design, so he didn't stop drinking when students started filing in for the last time that day. He nodded at some of them, and he looked down when he saw Sherlock come in.

Sherlock dodged Mr. Watson, going to the back of the class, much to the complaint of some hooligan who needed the back to doodle and text. He himself took out his phone, messing around with it. 

John didn't bother telling Sherlock to get off of his phone, just started with the lesson, the alcohol loosening him up a little bit. He passed out a test, and he sighed internally when he reached Sherlock. "Meet me after class, and get off your phone, please," He whispered, handing him the test before continuing down the row. "Anyone didn't get a test?" He got a few hands, and he apologized before handing them out. "Begin."

Sherlock put his phone in his pocket and started plowing through the questions like they were preschool material. He was done in three minutes, seventeen seconds. He raised his hand.

John walked over, kneeling next to Sherlock. "Done?" Sherlock's nod proved that he was right. He took up the paper. "Meet me outside in three," He whispered before going back, and putting his student's paper on his desk, face-down. "When you're done, please stack your papers on this one. I have some business to attend to." With that, he walked outside, waiting for Sherlock. He didn't want to make it painfully obvious that they were talking, hence the time difference in going out into the hall.

Sherlock waited around three minutes before getting up, phone in hand, walking out. He closed the door behind him, not bothering to look at his teacher. "Mr. Watson," He said, sighing. "You're disappointed in me. Are you not?" He asked, voice devoid of any emotion.

John came over, gently putting his hand on Sherlock's shoulder. "You're so smart, Sherlock... You need to stop. That club isn't even supposed to have you. You need to get a new job, Mr. Holmes. That... It's what people resort to when they can't make money as a prostitute, and they're in need. That's not you. You're a handsome, smart young man. You're going to go places."

Sherlock shuffled away, letting his teacher's hand drop to his side again. "I like it," He said, crossing his arms in front of his chest like that was a perfectly valid reason.

John shook his head. "We'll speak later. We _will_ , and there's no changing that. Inside."

Sherlock got chills. Mr. Watson could be _very_ commanding. He went inside, sitting at his desk, getting looks from people. He sat down and started playing on his phone again, but he couldn't stop thinking about Mr. Watson's oh-so commanding voice. He smirked. He texted Mr. Watson one thing.

_"See you then, captain. SH"_


	3. The Question

_See you then, Captain. SH_

John couldn't help the blush that rose to his cheeks as he read the text. Out of embarrassment or anger, he wasn't sure. He thought of a reply before shutting his phone off, deciding saying nothing was better than embarrassing himself. 

The minutes ticked by, more papers were turned in, and soon, class ended. Sherlock, however, remained in his seat with a small smirk playing at his lips. Once everyone was out of the classroom, he sauntered over to John, resting his hands on his desk. "Sir... I believe I can make you a deal."

John, on the other hand, was highly confused. He looked over Sherlock, but cursed himself after as he felt a tent start to slowly but surely grow inside of the prison that was his pants. He coughed awkwardly. "Uhm... Sherlock, what are you talking about?"

Sherlock knelt down, crawling under John's desk. "I think I know something... How about I stick your thick cock in my mouth, and you keep quiet about me being a stripper."

John gasped, eyes widening, pupils dilating. "S-Sherlock, you know this can't happen... I'd loose my job and you'd be expelled, the whole point of this is to stop you from stripping..."

Sherlock just smirked, and went up to John's ear. "I'll quit-" He took a pause, smirking, lips brushing against John's earlobe, "if you let me be your personal prostitute." He slowly licked up John's trousers, thoroughly soaking them after a minute. John had been caught into silence, and once he looked like he might be getting out of it, Sherlock stood up, giving him a quick kiss. "Tell me what you'd like tomorrow, sir," He whispered softly, exiting stage right.

Just like that, John was snapped back to reality, and _damn_. He had a decision, truly brain vs. body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for drawing it out so much!!! They're just a strange duo and I want to torture you


	4. Chapter Four: The Answer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John finally makes up his mind. He promises himself that it's just for Sherlock, not for himself...

John stayed up all night after that. He did his work, went home, and collapsed on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. God, what happened? Sherlock was so close to him, and he was so needy, and the way he danced...

John tried to get it out of his head. Always tried. All night, tried to sleep, but it wasn't going to happen. No way. Not today, not for a week, maybe. Would he go to school tomorrow? Should he call in for a sub? He was close to doing this, actually, but he put the phone down after thinking about what would happen if Sherlock felt rejected. He really did care about the boy's feelings. He was trying to make him do the right thing. Stop stripping for useless pedestrians that didn't deserve to see him. Blokes that came to look for a shag, one and done. Sherlock was worth much more than that. _Maybe I'd be best for him,_ John thought to himself. He sighed softly, god, what was he going to do?

He picked up his phone again, and he opened up the chat with Sherlock.

_Sherlock. JW_

Yes? SH

Sherlock had been startled from his experiment as the phone dinged. He immediently lost interest in the houseplant as he saw John's contact name on his phone, and he picked it up, flopping down on his bed, looking at it with curious eyes as he texted the elder back.

_Why did you want me? JW_

Because... You're you. SH

John Watson. Ex-soldier, teacher now, incredible human being who deserves someone. SH

_Sherlock, that doesn't mean you have to sell yourself out. I don't need your body, I don't need anything. I'm fine. JW_

Mind you, John, I'm quite fond of you as well. It's not just pity. SH

Goodnight, John. Don't overthink things. SH

Give me an answer tomorrow. SH

_I will. JW_

John didn't sleep. He couldn't, with the constant bothering from down below, and the thought of Sherlock on his knees, him on a pole, and them him quiet in class, smart, the little face he had on when he was thinking about something brilliant. Always brilliant, always with Sherlock. He couldn't be any less. John went over pros and cons, made a physical list, even, but he couldn't come up with more than three cons, so he threw the paper in the bin,

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Thank you for reading :) Kudos much appreciated. I always love comments as well!


End file.
